I might be in love with you
by Elly86
Summary: It starts with a different ending to 'The Reichenbach falls'
1. Chapter 1

Just a few more steps. A few more steps and Sherlock would arrive at the abandoned warehouse. He never imagined he would die in a warehouse, how undignified. But there was no turning back now. Not that he even wanted to.

He walked around the corner and into a huge, virtually empty space. The windows to his left made up the entire wall. The ceiling was supported by dozens of pillars, all roughly 30 feet apart. The paint, a shade of light blue, in which they had once been covered, was more or less, completely chipped off , revealing the yellow rusted iron underneath. Bits of rubbish and chunks of metal and wood lay scattered across the floor and a thick layer of dust covered everything. The air smelled of wet concrete and mould.

Sherlock had tried to prepare himself for what he would find in it, but the sight which presented itself in front of him now almost immobilised him. John was sitting on a chair in the middle of an invisible rectangle formed by four pillars. His hands were tied together at the back and his feet were each tied to one leg of the chair. John seemed to be very calm, his breathing was even. Sherlock knew that he himself appeared to be as serene as his partner, who was staring at him in, what seemed to be disbelief. Why was he so surprised to see him here? Did John honestly believe that Sherlock would not come? Sherlock felt a little pang of disappointment at that thought. John should know better by now, considering everything they've been through, especially the ordeal of the last few days.

Everybody had been convinced that Jim Moriarty was just a character, which Sherlock had constructed and a paid actor with the name of Richard Brook had brought to life. That it was actually Sherlock who had done all these horrible things just so he wouldn't be bored. Everybody, especially sergeant Donovan, had thought Sherlock to be the criminal.

Not so John, he had never even considered that any of the rumours could be true and had been solid as a rock, the one person in Sherlock's life that he could trust with anything. It was not the first time John had proven his loyalty, but this time it seemed even more precious. Sherlock knew perfectly well how easy human minds could be manipulated and made to question every single thing they were sure to be true. John hadn't faltered once but had stood by Sherlock.

Seeing him now, restrained the way he was, with a knife at his throat caused Sherlock's heart to ache. A part of him wished that they had never met. John was only in this mess because of Sherlock.

Three men, all dressed in black, were surrounding John. Two of them wore practical clothes, fitted, long sleeved shirts, army pants and sneakers. They were each positioned on either side of John. The one on his right was holding the knife that was threatening to cut open the soft skin beneath. The one on his left was just standing there with his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed on a point on the wall opposite of him.

Sherlock found himself visualising a fight with them, calculating the odds of the two gorillas losing. They were rather high, but he could not risk it, because of the man standing behind John. He was wearing a tailor made suit and a sickeningly smug expression. Moriarty was considerably smaller but much more dangerous. He took a step forward and placed his hands on John's shoulders. The smile on Moriarty's face widened as he saw the disgust, which Sherlock could not keep from appearing on his face.

"Hello Sherlock. I'm so glad you could spare some of your precious time for this."

John felt Moriarty's sweet voice trickle down his neck like honey. Involuntarily he shuddered, feeling the hated man's hands tighten their grip on his shoulders. Sherlock's eyes stayed fixed on John's as if he feared that John would disappear as soon as he looked away.

"Hello Jim, a pleasure as always." Even though Sherlock's voice was dripping with sarcasm it was also very cool.

John was not surprised by this, he had expected Sherlock to be cool Sherlock was pretty much always cool. But John could recognise an additional emotion not only in Sherlock's eyes but also in his posture. Resignation. Sherlock had resigned himself to his fate. And apparently Sherlock thought his fate was to sacrifice himself for John, to die so that John could live.

Sherlock Holmes had given up.

_Bloody hell, Sherlock. _John wanted to scream, to yell at Sherlock. But seeing as he was currently gagged and could only produce muffled sounds, he tried to communicate with his eyes.

_Trust me, Sherlock! _John tried to tell him.

_I have a plan!_


	2. Chapter 2

1 ½ h earlier:

"Alone is what I have, John. Alone protects me." Sherlock said. _Ugh! _John could not put up with this man any longer. He couldn't believe that Sherlock didn't want to check on Mrs Hudson, he had almost bloody killed a man just for threatening her, once. Under normal circumstances John might have thought this behaviour odd instead of simply these clearly weren't what one would call normal circumstances.

He walked to the door of the laboratory and opened it. Before stepping out of the room he turned to face Sherlock again and said:

"No Sherlock, friends protect you!" Without looking back he left Sherlock to brood on his own.

When John arrived at 221B and saw that Mrs Hudson was obviously quite healthy, not one hair on her head in disarray, his thoughts went immediately to _Sherlock!_

Suddenly it was very apparent to him that the phone call informing of Mrs Hudson having been shot, was just a truce to separate him from Sherlock, but before he could think this through, he heard the familiar _ping _ from his phone, indicating the arrival of a new message.

-_I can help clear Sherlock Holmes' name. Come to the Chiltern car park rooftop._

As soon as John arrived in the car park, he knew it was a trap. The whole situation felt much too suspicious. He could kick himself for being so naïve. How could he have believed, that there was anything, which could help them that Sherlock hadn't already thought of.

While contemplating on how to get out of this potentially huge pickle, two large figures emerged from the shadows ahead. Since whoever was headed for him had the only exit in their backs, he appeared to be cornered, but years of army training had provided him with the necessary tool to escape situations like this.

The two men walking towards him looked so much alike that John was sure they were brothers, maybe even twins. They had the same angular face, the same short brown hair, same height. Even their expressions were the same, completely absent of any kind of emotion. They wore practical clothes, black from head to toe.

It was obvious they had been in many fights during their lives. Their stride suggested that they were ready for one at any moment. They walked controlled and careful but very sure of themselves. John also noticed something odd about them. The twins kept unusually close, their shoulders and upper arms constantly pumping into each other.

When they were about a foot away they stopped abruptly and completely in sync as if both were controlled by the same thread. With identical synchronicity they stepped apart to reveal the reason for their earlier proximity. In the gap, that was now ajar between the two bears, stood a man wearing an expensive suit, whom John was not even the slightest bit surprised to see.

Jim Moriarty had always liked a big, dramatic entrance.

"Hello John, since we are probably both aware of the reason for our little meeting here today, I suggest we skip the pleasantries and go straight to business."

John wondered for a moment, if Moriarty meant to kill him here, but decided that he wouldn't call him out here just to unceremoniously murder him on a rooftop. John was sure that Moriarty was only interested in him because of Sherlock. To Moriarty John was just a boring little ant. Ants could be fun for a while, burning them with a magnifying glass. But once you've done that often enough it gets tediously dull and Jim Moriarty had indisputably burned more than enough little ants.

"You want to destroy Sherlock and are somehow convinced you will achieve that goal through me."

John tried to register every move Moriarty and his lackeys made, so he could be ready for whatever they intended to do.

"Very clever, Johnnyboy. But then gain, it wasn't very difficult to work out."

"Your plan will back fire," John said in an attempt to thwart Moriarty's immediate intentions.

"No matter what lie you told Sherlock to get him here, he'll know it's a trap and he won't come."

Moriarty snickered and started walking slowly and deliberately around John, forming a circle with his steps. John kept his eyes on bear number one and two, sure that, at this moment and in this situation, they posed a greater threat.

He was not entirely certain Sherlock wouldn't come, but he fiercely hoped that what he just said was the truth. Sherlock would almost definitely know That Moriarty had set him up, but it was also very possible he thought himself clever enough to beat Moriarty in his own game.

Still circling John like a shark, Moriarty's voice was slightly high pitched but otherwise sombre when he talked.

"John, John, John, I think you're overestimating our dear Sherlock. Don't get me wrong, I'm absolutely positive he will have worked out that you are posing as the cheese or the honey if you will," A sound almost like a giggle emerged from behind John "in this little scenario immediately. But that will only produce the opposite of the result you are wishing for."

Having now completed the circle, Moriarty was standing in front of John with only inches a few inches separating them.

Blue eyes, as cold as ice with just a hint of delight in them, were staring into John's brown ones. A shower ran down his spine which had nothing to do with the wind that ruffled their clothes and made him shiver. For a moment Moriarty revelled in this small betrayal of John's body, giving John the opportunity to state his most recent observation of the psychopath standing in front of him.

"You seem rather sure of yourself."

A short, crazy laugh rocked Moriarty's figure.

"Oh I am, I am." The delight in his voice had increased audibly and John started to feel a vague, uneasy knot forming in his stomach.

Do you remember our little meeting at the pool a few months ago?" he asked.

"Back then I thought it would be best to surprise Sherlock. I thought it would be fun to see his reaction to your latest fashion choice and it was, of course. But his face when he saw you wearing my west, told me so much more." No longer able to hide his excitement, Moriarty positively gleamed with anticipation now.

"I pondered long over whether I should tell you my findings or let you discover them yourself. Since you apparently are too stupid, to manage even that, I don't think you disserve to know. And you know what the best part is?"

Moriarty was bent over slightly, clapping his hands together in front of his face and jumping up and down like a little kid who had just heard he would get the pet he always wanted for Christmas.

"Sherlock will die and you will stay ignorant. He will never have the opportunity to tell you the truth.

"It would only be better if _you_ and _he _had to live the remainder of his life with his deepest secret never revealed. But he would not refrain from being a nuisance to me so I'll have to settle for his death instead of his lifelong agony."

He folded his hand behind his back and strolled past his two tools, who hadn't moved an inch the whole time Moriarty had been talking. They just kept staring into the air, like soldiers awaiting a command.

Moriarty snipped his fingers and they abruptly moved towards John very fast. John, who had not expected their swiftness suddenly found himself blinded by a smelly burlap bag thrown over his head and tied around his neck so it wouldn't fall off. His hands were being tied at his back and so were his feet. Then one of them threw him over his shoulder like he was a sack of flour. John squirmed against his bonds and yelled at them to let him go but that only resulted in a hard strike against his head.

The last thing John saw, before the blackness took hold of him, was Sherlock's smiling face dancing in front of his eyes.


End file.
